


Pretend with me

by kayejwrotes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Office, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Rating May Change, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayejwrotes/pseuds/kayejwrotes
Summary: It was the only good, desperately good, idea he'd had in the last 15 minutes. He needed at least to try to make it work. Plus, he always trusted his gut.Even if this time the possibility to get punched right on his nose was a bit too high.“I said, marry me.” his voice was shaky, but Matsukawa couldn't see anything but determination in his eyes.“Hanamaki-san…” Matsukawa's eyes looked ready to murder him, but Takahiro appreciated the fact that he hadn’t acted on the intent yet, “If this is your idea of a joke, I assure you it sucks.”





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleh/gifts).



> This is something I've been working on for a while.  
> Once upon a time, I did a giveaway on my blog and Elleh ended up being the winner!  
> It was supposed to be a mere 1k/2k fic, but in the end, her prompts were just that good, so I ended up writing a bit more.  
> It has yet to be finished, but I already wrote chapter one and two, and I'm revising chapter three. If we are lucky, I'll conclude this little fic within chapter 5.
> 
> Honestly, this is my first attempt at something akin to a comedy of sort, so be kind to me.

Takahiro ended the call feeling void and unsettled. The lawyer on the other side had been concise and direct, explaining to him in clear words what had to been explained.

He was still hurting and it wasn’t the lawyer’s fault.  
Takahiro knew this, but he couldn’t help the anger mounting inside at the idea of what will happen if he wouldn’t comply.

The conversation kept playing in his mind as he paced back and forth in his office.

_“Is this Hanamaki Takahiro?”_

_“Yes, it’s me.”_

_“Nice to meet you Hanamaki-san. I’m Matsumoto Hatsui, Hanamaki Ryoutaro’s lawyer.”_

_“...”_

_“I know it’s still fresh, but Ryoutaro-san’s last will was opened and read today. I suppose you didn’t know anything about this since you weren’t here today, do you?”_

_“... You are correct, Matsumoto-san.”_

_“Ah... as expected from Ryoutaro-san. Anyway, I won’t bother you too much with this and go straight to the point, if that’s okay with you.”_

_“Yes, of course. I’d very much appreciate that.”_

_“I was the one helping your uncle with the sealing and writing of his will... I also was the executor of said document. He was an old friend of mine, so if you have any further question about this feel free to ask me._  
_Anyway, in short, Ryoutaro-san left all of his possession to you, his beloved younger sister’s nephew.”_

_“...I ... I honestly wasn’t expecting this.”_

_“At one condition, though. I’m afraid that from what Ryoutaro-san told me about you, this won’t be a welcomed information._  
_“Ryoutaro-san has expressly underlined that it is essential for his heir to be married to claim any of those possessions, otherwise it will go in its integrity to the next person listed in Ryoutaro-san’s will, who happens to be his elder sister’s son, Maruichi Takanobu.”_

_Hanamaki tightened his grip on the phone._

_“There’s no way I’ll leave Uncle Ryoutaro’s home to that jerk.”_

_“Well, Maruichi-san was there today, and he already knows about the condition for such event to happen. Since you are so… adamant about this, I suppose I will wait for you and your spouse to show up here in my Kyoto office anytime soon?”_

_“Yes. We’ll be there this weekend.”_

_“Oh, that’s really nice to hear Hanamaki-san! I really hoped to make your acquaintance as soon as possible. I’ll be waiting for the both of you then! See you on Saturday morning then!”_

The cheerful voice of the old lawyer kept resonating in his ears and yet his expression was as grim and angry as before.

It wasn’t that he needed anything more than what he had already. He was a well-known designer working for a good company.  
He had a good job, a nice home, anything he could have wished for.

But he couldn’t let Uncle Ryoutaro’s home be raided and canceled by that asshole who had never worried about him once in his life. 

He still remembered the greedy look he had cast around on the nice traditional Japanese home uncle had built for himself in Kyoto.  


It was the house he had cared for a life. He had built it to reflect his soul, piece by piece, expressing himself through it as he never could with the rest of the world. Takahiro loved that house and Uncle Ryoutaro.

If he was the adult he was today, a great part of it was because of Uncle Ryoutaro and the days spent with him in that house.  
In Maruichi’s eyes, after the funeral ceremony had ended, Takahiro had already seen the demolition company coming to take it down, so he could build a horrible skyscraper on that.

That parasite, that vermin...! That horrible human being. They shared part of their genetic makeup but Takahiro couldn’t bear to be likened to him. Not even from afar.

Uncle had loved art and life. Takahiro remembered endless summer afternoons spent on the porch of that house with barley tea and Uncle’s voice quietly explaining him the happiness that his calligraphy works gave him, how every single form of traditional art he engaged with made his life a little bit better.  
Those memories were all the legacy he needed. His uncle had already given him the best inheritance he could, passing onto him the tools to become who he was today. 

He couldn’t let all of Uncle’s life, the house that contained it all, the very essence of what Uncle had tried to accomplish, be discarded like an old shoe, put in a bin and thrown away just because fashion had changed.

He wanted to preserve it. All in all, if he was where he was now, it was because of the seed of beauty, that longing for it, that those endless summer conversations with Uncle had planted in his heart.

It gave him the same feeling as uprooting himself. He couldn’t just stay put and let it happen.

But then, the problem still stood. He wasn’t married. 

He wasn’t in a relationship nor did he intend to be in one. Especially considering how badly have his past ones ended. He didn’t need a relationship.

He was more than happy with his friends and the occasional flings he happened to come across.

Nothing serious, nor permanent. He was happy with things going that way, despite the worried looks Tooru sometimes sent in his direction. He was _happy_ , really.

Right now, he desperately hoped for a way to get out of that impasse. He wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, and the idea of calling back that guy from H&R he had a date with two weeks ago wasn’t appealing at all. The guy didn't know sarcasm if it danced naked in front of him and let's not start on his bedroom manners. How could someone like that be hired in fucking H&R was beyond his comprehension.

As he was still pacing back and forth in his office, someone opened the door and he stayed frozen mid-step, eyes wide and wary as if he had been caught doing something nasty.

To be fair, Matsukawa-san expression was as surprised as his.

The man had a few folders neatly tucked under his left arm, his dark blue tie was pinned to his violet shirt’s pocket so it wouldn’t be in the way and he had a pen perched right between the tip of his right ear and his dark curls. To complete the look, black-rimmed glasses circled his eyes but did nothing to disguise the dark circles that everyone in the Sales department seemed to just grow by the end of the term.  
Despite all of this, he still seemed more put together than what Takahiro must have looked like at that moment, walking all alone and muttering to himself in his office.

Matsukawa-san closed the door behind himself, composing his expression into a neutral one as if he hadn't witnessed anything out of the ordinary.

“If it’s a bad moment, I can come back in a few minutes.” he said, even if he was already placing his folders on Takahiro's desk and taking charts and other sheets out of them.  
To Takahiro, it had sounded as if Matsukawa had just received the confirmation on how insane the guy from Design was once again.

Takahiro put his foot down and straightened, walking slowly to his chair and showing Matsukawa to the one in front of his desk where he was already sitting. 

“No, please...! I was just… thinking.” he tried to say in the more casual tone he could muster, deciding it was okay to ignore Matsukawa raised eyebrow as he waited for Takahiro to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. 

There was a moment of silence and a look passed between them when they found themselves both sitting on opposite sides of the desk, and right then Takahiro knew that they were both silently trying to agree on having a civil conversation for the sake of office relationship and harmony.  
Or that was the bullshit H&R had told them to think about the last time they had to sedate an argument between them.

It was exactly on that occasion that he had met Akira from H&R, if he remembered correctly. He should have known by then that the guy was dull as a dead fish.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I won’t take too much of your time.” Matsukawa-san started, picking a few papers full of charts and numbers and turning them toward Takahiro so he could look at them.

Takahiro grimaced at the sight of those. It was, without doubt, the budget plan for the last project his department was working upon, every little expense and deadline noted precisely on the pages in front of him.  
It was never nice when he and Matsukawa from Sales discussed budget and deadlines.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work with him, but... he didn’t really want to work with him at all.  
Matsukawa-san was probably a good person outside of the office - or that was what everyone told him when the topic arose-, but he wasn’t interested in knowing him outside when he couldn’t bear to work with him in the office. He’d probably be as insufferable as at work.

And yet, they were so similar…!  
Takahiro fussed and hovered over his colleagues like an old mother hen, or that was what most of them liked to call him.  
He reminded them about deadlines, checked meticulously their work, poured endless hours of extra work any time he could so that their department could be perfect. He worried a lot, to be honest, but since he was the head of the Design department, it was only natural he did so. His work was an important part of his life, and he liked to treat it that way. The same went for his colleagues. They were important to him, and he liked to treat them that way. Simple as that.

Matsukawa-san always worried about his department too, remembering everyone about deadlines and costs, reminding them how important it was to be finished days before the deadlines kicked in and how they had to stay in budget guidelines, no matter what.  
To be honest, they tried really hard in regards to deadlines.  
But being the head of Sales affected everyone in the company, not only his close colleagues, as Takahiro had more than once complained about when confronted with impossible deadlines.

He didn’t like that. Not even a little.

Of course, they tried to actually comply with all the requests Sales made, but most of the times it was impossible. They worked as a team, everyone with their part of the project to work upon. If the project needed more time than the established one to be done, was it their fault? 

Hanamaki liked to think that no, it wasn’t. Matsukawa, of course, didn’t agree with him.

Hence, the arguments, hence the fights, hence the ongoing frenemy vibes that developed whenever someone from Sales and someone from Design happened to be in the same room.

There were exceptions, of course, but the general environment was this one.

That wasn’t but the tip of the iceberg of his and Matsukawa’s long suffered work relationship, but they tried to make it work when it was needed. At least, they recognized each other merits - begrudgingly - since they had been working so long for the same company. They couldn't just ignore how good they were at their respective jobs.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa-san was still going through deadlines for a new product, shipments and how it was vital that this time they stayed in the fixated budget...  
It was then that the idea struck him.

Matsukawa-san was good at his job. A hardworking man.  
He stuck by his rules and never strayed from them. He gave off that vibe of stability and dependability that made everyone trust him naturally. Most of the times he talked in a calm tone, voice clear and words straight to the point. As if that wasn't enough, he was used to working toward a goal and obtain it, no matter what.

They had known each other for a long time. They knew their flaws and good points. They were already forced to work for the same goal most of the times, despite them doing it begrudgingly.

It was so insane that it could actually work.

“- the next wood shipment for the first tests has been arranged for the 15th of the next month, so you should have all the preliminary designs sent to us in time for the 3rd. This way we will have enough time to send them to the carpenter and have them already prepare the material for you. This will buy everyone around four days on the production schedule further along-”

“Marry me.” 

“-and you’ll have more time to do the usual tests and adjustments if there’re probl- What the fuck?” Matsukawa-san looked at him as if he had just been slapped.

Takahiro could feel his cheeks growing hot with every second that passed, but his gut told him this was a good idea.  
It was the only good, desperately good, idea he'd had in the last 15 minutes. He needed to try to make it work. At least, he needed to try. Plus, he always trusted his gut.

Even if this time the probability of getting punched right on the nose was a bit too high.

“I said, marry me.” his voice was shaky, but Matsukawa couldn't see anything but determination in his eyes.

“Hanamaki-san…” Matsukawa's eyes looked ready to murder him, but Takahiro appreciated the fact that he hadn’t acted on the intent yet, “If this is your idea of a joke, I assure you it sucks.” he spat out with no hint of humor, already starting to stand up.

Blunt as ever.

Takahiro bit his lip and the “fuck you” ready to come out from his mouth as quickly as he could. He'd have to choose his next words carefully.

“I’m serious, Matsukawa-san, I need you to marry me.”

The other man stilled in the chair and sat back again, “That’s quite a weird wording for asking something like that from me." Matsukawa studied him for a moment, inscrutable as ever, "We are not even interested in each other, if you aren’t aware of it.”

“This is so complicated…” Takahiro sighed.

He stood up, starting to pace again, and Matsukawa-san rotated on his chair, eyes following his movements with a light that could be considered curiosity, at least.  
Takahiro prayed that the ‘sudden madness’ possibility had been ruled out from his list, for the moment. 

If he was going to listen to him, despite how ridiculous he probably looked, Takahiro only had to make this work his way.

“So, as you may be aware of, a few weeks ago I had to take a few days of leave.” he started looking at him, “I went in Kyoto to attend my uncle’s funeral.”

“Oh… I’m sorry for your loss”, it came out soft, more than what he had expected. 

Hanamaki acknowledged his condolences with a nod of his head and a quick wave of his hand, eager to continue.

“Today, his lawyer called to tell me he had read my uncle’s last will and that I was listed as the sole person in the family to inherit his properties.”

“I still can’t see where the marriage thing comes in though…”

“Well, it was…”

“Or when my assistance comes in because this is already starting to look as if it's not needed - I mean, you could just marry someone else and get done with it, it would be simpler than having to actually involve me– ”

“That’s if you will fucking let me finish! This is already complicated without you interrupting me!”

“Well, it’s not like you have been clear from the start, Hanamaki-san.”

An irritated sound made the way out of his lips, but Matsukawa had probably seen something else because the next thing he was going to say never came past his lips and instead signaled him to just keep going.

“So, as I was saying, today he called me to tell me about the inheritance - which to be honest I didn’t even know there was one, I’m not that kind of person” he felt the need to remark this.  
Judging from the pointed look he was giving Matsukawa, he had expected some sort of comment about this part of the story and it seemed even odder to Issei the tentative smile that appeared on Hanamaki-san lips when he didn’t react at all. 

“Anyway, apparently there seems to be a problem with it. I can’t claim it without a particular condition fulfilled and I cannot just let this slide."  
Hanamaki stopped in the middle of the room as if there was something else, but when he spoke, Issei had a feeling that wasn't exactly what he wanted to say.  
"I’ll be honest, I don’t need the money nor other things, but I can’t just let my uncle’s house be destroyed by my cousin, who will happen to inherit the whole thing if I can’t comply with the condition.”  
He took in a shaky breath and for a moment, it seemed to Issei as if Hanamaki-san was on the verge of breaking down at whatever he went unsaid. Instead, he composed himself and continued, steeling himself once again.

“The condition is that I’ve to be married, and since I can’t let this going to waste, I’m asking you to marry me, Matsukawa-san.” Hanamaki concluded, stopping in his pacing, a hopeful glint in his eyes

Issei stared at him, hoping that he wasn’t giving away any of the confusion he felt inside.

This was crazy. Simply crazy. He couldn’t just get married like that. What would his family say? Or his friends? And let’s not think about their co-workers.  
They weren’t in a relationship. For God’s sake, they couldn’t even stand each other. It wouldn’t work. Not even in the eyes of someone who had never seen them. They’d be called out for their bullshit right away. It was plain crazy. It couldn’t work. Case and point.

And yet, one look at Hanamaki’s eyes and he found himself asking “What’s in it for me? Why asking me and not someone else?”

Issei hated himself a bit for his own curiosity. Really, his mum was right when she said it would put him in a big mess one day, but he couldn’t help himself, not when the look in Hanamaki-san’s eyes almost compelled him to blurt it out against his own will.

Takahiro was asking himself the same thing, but the only answer he had was really stupid, in retrospect. Anyway, he was already making a fool of himself so it couldn’t really go any worse than this.

“You were here…?” he tried, but Matsukawa-san unimpressed stare fixed him right on the spot. He needed to add something quickly if he didn’t want to lose that slim hope of possibility at making his dumbass plan work. 

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“...And...! I knew that despite all our differences and past animosity” he decided to ignore Matsukawa-san amused smirk now, “you are someone I can trust completely. I can disagree with some of your decisions, but I respect your work ethic and the trust you’ve built with your colleagues. I know that if you’d agree to help me with this, you wouldn’t let me down halfway.”

“I know I already said you were here” he added with a quiet nod of his head, fixing his eyes into Issei’s, “but I honestly can’t think of someone else I could trust with this kind of thing. You are the one that I’ll ask this favor from, no matter the circumstances”, voice soft at the end, too unguarded and genuine, devoid from any kind of hidden trap.

Issei was stunned. Hanamaki was many things, but surely not a liar. He was known to speak his mind, even when it was uncalled for. Listening to his impromptu confession, watching him while he said something so earnest about Issei… it was almost too intimate, too real. He hadn’t expected something like that.

“I’ve never heard you say anything like that about me, Hanamaki-san, should I be worried you really wanna marry me?”

There wasn’t anything but sincerity in Hanamaki’s eyes when he answered him bluntly.  
“Yes, I do.”

Silence fell over them while Issei seemed to realize it wasn’t a joke. Hanamaki really mean it.  
The words rolled over in his mind with an air of seriousness that had him taking a deep breath.  
If it had been anyone else he would have already walked out the door with no further words exchanged between them, but Hanamaki wasn’t joking, he wasn’t playing around.

Despite the lack of romantic feelings toward each other he couldn’t do anything but give him the same attention he’d pay if there had been.

Hanamaki was clearly going out of his way with this request, it was only fair for Issei to treat him seriously, even if all that conversation was a complete absurdity.

"...It wouldn't be a fake thing then? It won't be a Las Vegas wedding?" Issei already knew the answer, but he needed it to be spelled out. It felt unreal until it was said openly.

Hanamaki smile was crooked at the edges, almost shy, but that determination was still there.  
"Honestly, I was thinking about something a little bit more traditional, but if you'd like a Las Vegas themed one..."

Issei gagged at the words, snorting loudly. He shook his head, "I'd like something a bit more traditional too, honestly."

Silence fell once again and Takahiro watched Matsukawa. He was caressing his chin, pulling the skin between his knuckles lightly. Takahiro was convinced that Matsukawa wasn't aware of this habit, even if he had seen him doing it countless time. He always looked so pensive when he did that.

“So… I’m not yet sold on the idea, Hanamaki-san." He began, choosing his words carefully, "It seems like this could blow up in our faces too easily. I can’t just accept your proposal like this. I believe you can understand my perplexities.”

Takahiro felt his shoulder fall imperceptibly with that sentence. His brilliant plan for saving Uncle Ryoutaro’s beloved home seemed to be sinking with every passing second.

Matsukawa drew a heavy breath in, passing a hand through his hair, as if that could conquer those unruly curl of his.

“But, since you are putting so much faith in me, I’ll at least give you a chance to clear all my doubts and let's see, maybe we’ll be able to strike a fair deal over this. How does it sound to you?”  
Matsukawa wasn’t exactly smiling while he stood up offering him his hand, but Takahiro felt confident enough to actually consider that small upward turn of lips as his ship not having sunk yet.

He took his hand, shaking it vigorously.

“I’ll make sure to convince you as soon as possible, Matsukawa-san.” he beamed, confident once more.  
“What about dinner at my place tonight? We will be able to talk freely and I know just the right people to ask for a more in-depth counsel over this matter. I’m certain they’ll be able to clear whatever doubts could arise.” Takahiro quickly added, hoping it didn’t seem too pushy of him, but he really did have no time to waste. 

“It sounds about right to me. Send me your address and the time and I’ll show up.” Matsukawa nodded, picking up his folder full of charts and plans. He still looked perplexed, as if he couldn't really believe that was happening, but for the moment it seemed like he wouldn't run away from Hanamaki.   
He was confident his plan could work out. He could despise having to work with Matsukawa all he wanted, but he was reliable and a man of his word. If he agreed, he'd do it.   
This could work. Takahiro could _feel_ it. 

“I’ll make sure to let you know as soon possible, Matsukawa-san!” Takahiro exclaimed cheerily, closing the door behind him as he exited from his office.

As soon as the door closed, he let himself fall to the ground. He felt emptied and relieved at the same time.  
Shit. There was no way he could waste an opportunity like that.

He scrambled a bit with the pocket of his pants and finally managed to get his phone out.

He was already looking for a certain number in his contact list when his phone started ringing, Killer Queen blasting at the highest volume before he could do anything but press the button.

_“Now, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Matsukawa coming out of your office with a look like that, Makki -”_

_“Shut it Tooru, I need a favour…”_


	2. Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first pieces get in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... It seems like I took my time with this. I'm not yet satisfied with this chapter and can't help ask myself if I shouldn't have add something of next chapter too in this one. But for now, this is its final form. Once I finish this fic, I'll probably go back to edit it from the beginning once again.  
> It's nice to take my time writing something. It's nice not having to work against the clock.

“So…” Tooru began, swinging dramatically on one of Takahiro’s kitchen stools, “You wanna be married?”

Takahiro looked at him as if the word alone was enough to make him want to puke.

Tooru clicked his tongue, swinging back toward the kitchen counter.

“You know this doesn’t help your situation, right?”

Oikawa sipped loudly from his glass of Cherry Bitch, as if he hadn’t just casually stated something really obvious that Takahiro didn’t want to face.

That spiked tea was incredibly good. Hajime’s bartending classes were paying off.

It wasn’t fair to Hajime’s efforts that Takahiro wasn’t appreciating it as much as he should have.

“Oh my, Iwa-chan! This is too good! Quick!” he motioned in a stage whispered voice, ignoring the look he was getting from his husband,  “Hide that pitcher before Makki can get another refill! He doesn’t deserve it!”

“Makki can get whatever refill he wants, since we are stealing his food.” Iwaizumi said, chopping a few more vegetables and throwing them in the pan, where a nice mix of spices and herbs was already starting to brown.

“But that’s how he’s paying our counseling!” Oikawa protested, making grabby hands at the pitcher full of spiked ice tea. Iwaizumi hit him lightly on the back of his hand like a misbehaving child, but refilled his glass and left the pitcher close enough so he didn’t have to stretch too much to get it.

 

Takahiro took a long sip of his drink and watched the show roll in front of him.

Those two could have been a perfect comedy duo. Really, they were wasted doing regular jobs at the company.

 

“He’s asking for a favor, he doesn’t need to pay us in any way.”

“He’s asking for a favor he doesn’t really want-”

“That’s none of our business-!”

“It is, Iwa-chan, since he’s asking us!” Oikawa exclaimed, clinking his glass vehemently on the counter. and for a moment it was clear as the day that Iwaizumi was worried he might have broken it, but the other went on as if nothing had happened. “He could have asked Dai-chan and Suga-chan, but no! He came to us, looking for our expertise in such a delicate matter, because we are his most trusted-”

“Morons” Takahiro snorted, facing with a smug grin Oikawa betrayed expression.

Iwaizumi was doing a poor job at hiding his grin.

“You brought this upon yourself and you know it.”

He turned toward the stove before his husband could start declaring that Julius Caesar could have been the only one to know how he felt, being stabbed that many times by the people he loved and trusted (this scene happened more than once, but it never got stale in Takahiro’s humble opinion. He felt like it was a classic of their repertoire), and Takahiro couldn’t help but snicker at the dramatical display.

He sipped quietly once more. Oikawa was simmering in his own disdain but it was quickly melting away. The love in his eyes was almost palpable while he looked at his husband relaxing among pots and pans.

 

It was nice, watching them like that.

They had always been a nice couple to look at. It was something that went beyond their good looks. It was relaxing and warm at the same time.

He’d known the both of them for a long time.

Actually, he’d been friend with Oikawa long before Iwaizumi came into the picture (all those years of daycare spent together felt like a lot of time), but the first time he’d seen them together Takahiro knew this was the only outcome possible for them.

Maybe he couldn't exactly understand that the two kids playing together in the sandbox would get married in the next twenty years or so. But the way they just clicked was special, unique. He didn't feel left out, he was just too amazed by what was happening in front of him.

With time passing and his knowledge of the both of them getting clearer, the thought nestled in his head like an unshakeable pillar.

There was no way they could fall in love with anyone else but each other. It was the only possible future for them. If there ever was a match made in heaven - or hell, depending on the situation - that was Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

 

Takahiro had been there since the early stages, when they were just clumsy kids, aggressively looking out for each other and always ready to just be there.

He’d watched them grow up, grow past the first embarrassing stages of discovering they could have different feelings for each other beside friendship. He’d seen them work for it.

When he heard people in the corridors at the office discussing how Oikawa and Iwaizumi looked like a couple that never needed to make an effort to keep their relationship going, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing every single time.

Those two worked like mad to make things work. It wasn’t that there were too many difficulties, but if one got to know them, the first thing he’d notice was how much work, care, and attention they paid to each other.

They loved each other, they wanted to make the other happy no matter what the price and that was why Oikawa and Iwaizumi always tried to do their best for each other.

If there was anything he’d learned from watching his friends, it would be the endless work that a healthy relationship needed.

Takahiro had seen plenty of it by now, to the point he could confidently say he knew them pretty well.

He had been the one to design their wedding rings. After all that time, he still couldn’t help but think that he’d made the more fitting choice.

 

They had always been tightly wrapped around each other, getting nutrition and sustaining each other symbiotically, like vines full of flowers and bees, the same that dotted with precious gems and intricate beading their wedding rings. It was complicated and simple at the same time. Clean lines getting the message straight to the point. It was Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

He was quite proud of that work. He’d never done such a complicated design before, and certainly not for jewelry.  
It wasn’t his usual field of work, but for his friends he had accepted the challenge gladly.

 

Someone at the time had joked about him doing tryouts for his own wedding ring.

The thing had left a foul aftertaste in his mouth. Those were probably the only wedding rings he’ll ever do.

Not his own, nor anyone else’s.

 

Hajime and Tooru were special. They had been there for him when he needed it the most and Takahiro would never thank them enough for their friendship along the years.

He wanted to see them happy. When the law about marriage equality had finally passed in Japan it was with great joy that he had offered to do their wedding rings.

It was right for them to get married.

They loved each other in a way it wasn’t possible to imagine them as separated entities.

 

For him, that was not an option.

He couldn’t picture himself as anything but whole on his own.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was the way he saw himself. No more no less.

 

He couldn't imagine for himself the same future they had.

Marriage, a long relationship with someone… that wasn't something he'd ever considered to be within his reach.

He had that conversation many times with his friends, but most of the times he got confronted with the blank look in his friends’ eyes. They simply couldn't get what it was for him. They just rolled on two very different binaries.

It wasn't self-deprecation, like someone had wondered. It wasn't the fact that he considered himself unlovable or anything of that sort. If anything it could be something along the way that he couldn't imagine loving someone as much as Iwaizumi and Oikawa loved each other. 

The thought of loving someone in such an encompassing way... It was a bit frightening, honestly. But in the end, it wasn't even that.

It was just the way Takahiro saw himself. He knew who he was and where he stood. Relationships weren't his things.

 

The thought that he'd have to be married soon… it was unsettling.

There wasn't any love, there wasn't any excitement for the right reasons.

The longing to be with the person he loved for the rest of his life wasn't there. The jitters, the joy he'd seen in the eyes of Tooru and Hajime while they planned their wedding wasn't there.

Of course, he had been happy for his friends, but when it came to him he couldn’t feel any of that joy.

And yet, despite him not wanting to admit it, he felt a little bit curious about the whole ordeal.

It could have been anyone else in Matsukawa’s place but he felt a little bit comforted knowing it was him. It was hard as fuck to admit it, but the truth was this one, deep down in some part of his mind Takahiro didn't really want to delve in.

They didn't love each other, there wasn't even the smallest bit of attraction between them.

And yet the fact that it was indeed Matsukawa… it was incredibly comforting for some reason.

It was like another one of his projects. He participated in them, most of the time as the main designer, but he still got to see them get together independently from his doing.

He just watched them grow into beautiful things, only intervening when it was requested but not much otherwise.

 

Takahiro toyed with his glass a bit, still contemplating the idea that had been blossoming there since after Matsukawa left his office.  
He could just let this go its merry way, as if he had never received that phone call. He could call Matsumoto-san, apologize for the inconvenience and tell him that he wasn’t actually married and he didn’t plan on getting married anytime soon.  
Everything that was mentioned in his Uncle’s will could go to his cousin since he didn’t have any rights to claim it, and he’ll just eventually forget about the whole thing.

Bullshit. He knew himself. He could say he’d eventually get over it, but the truth was that he’d just stew over it for the rest of his life, thinking about what would have happened if he had just gone through with the whole fake marriage thing and saved his Uncle’s property.

He wasn’t the kind of person that dealt well with what-ifs.

For the sake of his own sanity, it didn’t feel right to let everything disappear just like that. Somewhere, deep within himself, there was a hidden thought that he was trying his best to push down and get it to go away once again.

 

While the doorbell rang and Tooru jumped to answer it, Takahiro found himself placing the empty glass on the table and go greet his guest - he could already hear Matsukawa’s deep voice from there. When he let Matsukawa in and gave him a pair of spare slippers, Takahiro knew what the feeling he felt was called, as he observed Matsukawa’s back inspecting his surroundings. He was deadly curious.

 

****************************

 

Dinner was a quiet, friendly affair. More so then what Takahiro had expected.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised though, considering that at least two of them knew each other quite well. Iwaizumi and Matsukawa, being respectively in Management and Finance, had more than one occasion to work together, thanks to the Design department.

Apparently, they had a sort of office friendship going on, but contrary to what Takahiro expected work was only the catalyst for whatever conversation they started and soon disappeared from their words.

They talked about nothing and everything, that new comedy program airing recently on tv, praising Iwaizumi’s cooking, sharing some office gossip, but nothing too significant in order to keep things amicable for everyone.

Takahiro contributed to bits and pieces of conversation here and there, but mostly he contented himself with observing how Matsukawa interacted with both Hajime and Tooru.

It was the most at ease he’d ever seen him, while being in the same room as Takahiro.

He smiled freely and laughed when he was amused. He replied with enthusiasm and passion when talking about things that moved him deeply. He asked and inquired when curious or just for the sake of the conversation going on.  
Takahiro wasn’t sure how to frame him outside of his own verdict on the man, but he seemed like a perfectly normal person. So much that he found himself doubting his own judgment on Matsukawa.

When they got to dessert - a vast array of different flavored mochi Matsukawa had bought from a well-known patisserie - it was as if the light atmosphere from before had come to an abrupt end.

Maybe it was in the pose Tooru had assumed, his hands casually folded together on the table, or in the way Hajime was quietly staring at Takahiro and Matsukawa on the other side of the table, as if waiting for something.

Takahiro definitely felt something switch in the air of his dining room.

It didn’t matter that they were still waiting for the tea to go with the sweets, Tooru’s eyes had that sharper light in them that meant business.

“So, where would you like to begin?” he asked, casually flicking his fringe away with a movement of his head.

There was a moment of silence and Takahiro for a moment thought he’d have to be the one asking questions, but Matsukawa beat him to it.

“How can we do this without disrupting our lives completely?”

Hajime patted Tooru on the shoulder and stood up. “That’s your cue, babe.” He declared, going to the kitchen to take their tea.

“Well, in terms of law, you can have a prenuptial agreement and settle everything in advance, so in case you’ll divorce everything will already be taken care of.” Tooru began, matter of factly, “But if what you are asking is whether you can get out of this mess without having your asses kicked in the process, well, that’s a bit more complicated.”

“Gay marriage is still something very peculiar in Japan.” he sighed, looking up at his left, where Hajime had come back with the tray and their tea.

“You’ll have to think everything through.” He interjected, before Tooru started explaining once again, “Since the beginning, people had been very distrustful over gay marriage and its genuineness here in Japan. Most people still consider it as a way for companies and such to strengthen their ties. So it’s looked a lot more into than heterosexual marriage is.”

“What he’s saying is that you should be ready to put your life under a magnifying lens for whoever they’ll assign to your case.” Hajime said with a shrug of his shoulders as he handed the cups to everyone.

“What does this mean?” Takahiro was more than a bit put off by this. He didn’t know if he was ready to have someone pry into his life that freely.

“It means that you’ll have someone performing weekly check-ups with the both of you, alone and together, just to verify you are actually married, in love with each other, and not in for the money. They could decide to put hidden cameras into your house, to record your interactions, or they could make surprise visits. If you manage to convince them, you are good to live the rest of your lives together or something like that.” Hajime stated, taking a slow sip of his tea at Takahiro shocked face, “That’s what happens to every same-sex couple that decides to marry. We had to go through it too.”

Tooru grimaced a bit. “As if I’ll marry Hajime without love. Assholes.”

“That’s… They really can do all of that?” Takahiro asked, not wanting to believe all of that.

“They can and they do. It isn’t all that surprising, considering how popular it still is the use of marriage as a way to make powerful alliances. Gay marriage is just another possibility to do the same.” Tooru explained. He looked calm and collected but it was clear he hated every bit of that with all of himself.

His husband looked at him for a moment, before placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing a bit. The gesture seemed to have placated Tooru without adding anything else because his mouth was once again a quiet line.

Takahiro silently asked himself how he and Matsukawa would manage to fool anyone into thinking they were madly in love with each other. They’d never be able to behave so casually with each other like that.

This thing was bound to fail.

“We’ll just have to pretend really well, then, won’t we?”

Lost as he was in his thoughts, he had almost forgotten Matsukawa sitting at his side.

The man had stayed in silence for the whole explanation, looking at Iwaizumi and Oikawa in front of them without giving an inkling to what was going through his mind. His words, so clear and with no hint of hesitation, had sounded so loud in the silence.

Takahiro couldn’t help but nod, unable to escape Matsukawa steady gaze.  
He still thought it was impossible, but for some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, he found himself believing what Matsukawa had said. As if they could actually do it.

 

****************************

 

He was gripping the steering wheel with more strength than usual, but he couldn’t help but feel surprised every time he felt the slim white-gold band dig into his ring finger.

It was alien, foreign, it weighed like a ton, and yet when he had taken it off that morning to wash his face, Takahiro had felt it, the ghost-sensation of having a ring around his finger.

It was less than 48 hours since they added each other’s name on their family register and he was already feeling it.

It was probably just a suggestion, a cruel trick of his mind while he kept glancing from the rear mirror as Matsukawa - _Issei_ \- loaded their bags in the car trunk. It made him shiver.

Without thinking, he switched the air vents on, basking in the warm air blasting through the small vents in front of him.

A lot better.

 

“Did you want to recreate the desert? If that’s it, I’d say you are doing a great job.”

Takahiro watched him as he strapped the seat belt on and closed off the vents in front of himself with a flick of the finger. He appreciated the fact Matsukawa - _Issei_ \- hadn’t asked him to switch the hot air off.

“So, how many hours is it from Tokyo to Kyoto?”

“Five and a half.”

Takahiro saw him startle from the comfortable position he had previously settled in.

They looked at each other. Matsukawa was at a loss of words, apparently.

“And why the hell again didn't we take the shinkansen instead of being trapped inside this old piece of metal!?”

Takahiro only raised the music up and started the engine, concentrating on the road.

He did have told him he liked to drive in silence, no small talk because he preferred to concentrate on the road before him.

Issei just thought the guy was full of shit.

He’d been woken up at the crack of dawn, a cup of coffee thrust in his hand and a lot of chatter about how much nicer it would be taking the car instead of reserving tickets for the bullet train, it wasn’t even a given that they could find some with such a short notice, what a pity, at least Hanamaki owned a car and he was good enough to drive and had done the trip plenty of times… He had agreed. What a fool.

He lied against the backrest and decided he could at least enjoy the view outside, even if it was cloudy and grey.

It wasn’t that often that he got the chance to appreciate the postcard-worthy hilly outline of the Japanese countryside, anyway.

It was more than a five-hour drive from Tokyo to Kyoto, Issei had nothing but time.

He watched the buildings of Tokyo disappear quickly as they left Minato behind, people swarming through the streets and walking to the station to get their day started.  
He’d lived not so far from the outskirts of Asakusa until a week ago, on the other side of the city.

Moving had been easier than expected.  
His home had been emptied much quicker than what it had taken him to fill it. All his stuff had been moved to Hanamaki’s home - a bigger flat on the edges of Minato - or temporarily stored at friends’ houses.

He’d thrown a lot of things away too. It was too good of an occasion to not declutter a bit.

He liked to keep his things to a bare minimum and he could certainly do without a few things he hadn’t been using in a while.

It wasn’t like he’d been using the toaster in a while and Hanamaki already owned one. They didn’t need a second one.

He was actually burning to break the subject of spaces to Hanamaki and how it looked like the other owned a lot of unuseful things since the moment it had dawned upon him that he was going to live in that house for the near future, but their cohabitation was too fresh for something like that.

Plus, it wasn’t like Issei would be a permanent fixture in Hanamaki’s life. Their fake marriage was a time-bomb they were sitting comfortably upon. It was set on a six-month deadline, but it could explode in their faces at every moment.

 

They had followed Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s instructions to the letter.

One bed, because married couples didn’t sleep on single beds.

Hanamaki had cleared some of his drawers and half of his wardrobe for him.

His shoes had been placed at the entrance, neatly lined side by side with Hanamaki’s.

His coat hung behind the door.  
His toothbrush was in the small plastic container next to the sink, in the bathroom.

His books had been placed on the shelves, his favorite comforter was on Hanamaki’s couch.

His favorite coffee mug was currently on the drying rack next to where Hanamaki’s had left his own to dry before they closed the house.

They had done everything they could to give off the impression that Issei lived there.

Hell, they’d even slept in the same bed that night, side by side, fighting for the covers.

Hanamaki had chided him more than once when he had accidentally referred to something like “his” and not “theirs”.

Issei had yet to figure if he did so to actually chastise him, or if he had done so he could help himself remind it too.

 

He looked at the man currently driving.

Hanamaki  - Takahiro, as he had insisted just that morning - had rolled his shirt’s sleeves up and was driving with one hand on the wheel, tense forearm almost as if he had to keep the thing from jumping out of the case. The contrast was striking, compared to the way his other hand was languidly resting on the stick, absentmindedly tapping against it along with the song.

His eyes were fixed on the road disappearing with every kilometer they left behind. His lips twitched sometimes, as if he was unconsciously keeping from muttering something out loud. And yet it seemed the calmest Issei had ever seen him.

He was so concentrated on the simple task of driving, that it seemed as if nothing could move him from the inner place of tranquillity he was in.

Issei drifted off as the first few rays of blinding light filtering through the clouds started hitting Hanamaki’s pale forearms.

 

*************************

When he woke up again, the car had stopped and Issei felt disoriented for a moment, staring at the clean entrance of a combini sprouted in the middle of nowhere.  
There was nothing but the rice fields around them and, a bit far on the left, the highway.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist, confused. It seemed like Hanamaki had driven for almost three hours before deciding it was high time for a break.

He opened the door, hastily covering himself with the coat when the cold, humid air of early spring hit him.

His legs protested when he stood after being cramped in the car seat for so long. As he paced a bit in the parking lot to regain sensibility, Hanamaki got out of the combini, a plastic bag hanging from his wrist and sipping on something piping hot, judging from the lazy tendrils of smoke rising from the cup in the cold.

Hanamaki walked towards him, thrusting with little to no finesse the bag in his hands, before going to check for something in the back of the car.

Issei yawned. “Where are we?”

“A little bit over Shizuoka. I hope you don’t mind but I needed a break.”

Issei shrugged, as he pulled out of the bag a bottle of cold barley tea.

He shucked the bag in the backseat of the car and closed the car door. He leaned against it, as he drank some tea from the bottle.  
He didn’t know he felt so parched until that moment.

“You know…” Hanamaki began, standing by his side, “I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely fair to you this morning.”

Issei snorted. “You tricked me for good.”

Hanamaki shrugged, a barely-there smirk on his lips.

“We should get along, for the sake of this thing. Or at least pretend to get along."

Hanamaki was staring at the landscape, watching the peaceful country roads, apparently intent on scratching the back of his head. Issei could see the faintest hint of red dusting the top of his ears, though. It was nice to know that even someone as direct as Hanamaki struggled to say things. But an olive branch was an olive branch. He could let him squirm a bit, before taking him up on his peace offering, anyway.  
“Haven’t we already decided about this?”

“Yes, we did... But I feel like we should get to know each other a little bit better beside knowing by heart all the things we can’t stand about the other.”

“Well, that's a good starting point as any other,” Issei chuckled, “but I get your point. If someone were to ask us things about each other, we'd be fucked.”

Hanamaki nodded, taking a sip of his hot drink.

“I'll go first.” Issei declared, drinking one last time from the tea bottle and shucking that too in the backseat of the car. “I hate being woken up early.”

 

*********************************

 

They were on the road again.

Hanamaki was still driving and Issei was still on the passenger seat, but this time they were talking.

It was almost surreal how they were talking with little to no problem. Issei was convinced that their polite and easy conversation was that peaceful mostly because Hanamaki was driving and none of them wanted to crash for a stupid argument.

“Anniversary?”

“In 363 days” Issei answered smoothly. Hanamaki snorted.

They’d been quizzing each other with random things, mostly easy ones like music, books, favorite sports, and of course, food.

“Favourite food?”

“Creampuffs! But taiyaki are a close second. Especially those with whipped cream and sprinkles on top.” Hanamaki dreamily declared.

“... Are you serious?” Issei looked at him, “I would have taken you for a more, I don’t know, sophisticated type. Like, soufflé?”

“Creampuffs are hella difficult to get right, I’ll have you know. Choux paste has the tendency to go wrong when you least expect it. ” Hanamaki tutted, “Anyway, why did I give you that impression?”

“You are a designer. “ Issei shrugged, picking a cracker from the communal bag sitting between them “I guess I thought you’d be into more complicated things.”

“Well, not all of us are complicated pricks, you know?” Hanamaki looked annoyed from the side glance addressed Issei’s way.

Issei wished he had bit his tongue before saying that. He might have just stomped on the thin ice their peace was threading on.

They weren't friends. They were making an effort right now at being civil and Hanamaki was a bit... sensitive, over such things. Especially considering how it was very easy to remember how things had gone wrong the first time among them.  
It was exactly like that. Wrong words at the wrong time.

“That wasn’t what I was saying and you k-”

Hanamaki shushed him with a shrug of his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

“I can’t deny I like to experiment with flavors... but I’m also really fond of the taste of traditional cooking.”

“See, not all of us are complicated pricks. What’s your favorite food?”

“Anything that has to do with meat. Especially a type of cheese filled steak they do in a place near work.”

Hanamaki nodded absentmindedly, too occupied to check the names on the road signs. He knew the road by heart, but it had been a while since he last came to visit and he didn’t want to take the wrong turn.

He was so concentrated, he didn’t hear Matsukawa’s next question.

“Uhn? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“I asked you if you wanted to tell me something about your uncle. I know it’s not my business, but... it kinda is.” he said with an apologizing smile, wiggling his ring finger toward Takahiro.

“I like to know why things happen, especially if it’s going to involve me too.”

Hanamaki didn’t answer at first. For a while, it seemed like Issei would never get an answer.  
Hanamaki kept watching in front of him, the first road sign indicating the next exit for Kyoto came and passed, but Hanamaki just stared in front of himself without a word.

Issei observed him quietly, waiting.

“... Who was your uncle to you?” Issei's voice was soft in the car.

 

His words made something clench inside Takahiro.

The grip on the wheel tightened.

He owed him at least this much since he had accepted to help him.

 

He took the first turn from the highway toward Kyoto.

 

“It has always been us. I mean, me and my mom. My dad… he wasn't in the picture.”

Issei waited, silent.

“Uncle Ryoutaro… He took care of us.

Mom worked odd hours but it wasn't always enough for the both of us.

Uncle didn't have any kids, I was his sister's kid… He gave her money for my education, took me in every summer for as long as possible so that mom could cram a little bit more of work and have a few months of respite during the year.”

 

The first houses of Kyoto’s suburbs started to appear at their left.

 

Issei watched Hanamaki as he shrugged.

“I owe him a lot. He was a good uncle. He helped make me the man I am today. Without him… I would have turned out a much worse human being than what I am now.” he concluded with a lopsided smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

Issei snorted, sensing that barrier that Hanamaki was slowly building back between them. Just a little bit thicker than what it was before.

“So I owe him a lot too if he kept you from being worse than this. If that is even possible.”

“You could say.”

Silence stretched between them.

The scattered houses started to grow into neighborhoods and little by little they got into Kyoto.

The atmosphere inside the car wasn't exactly cold, but it wasn't even friendly.

Hanamaki had seemed to shut him out with those last words.

 

Issei didn't pry over for the rest of their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this!  
> If you enjoyed this chapter and if you are enjoying the fic so far, please consider leaving a comment and kudos. They feed my creativity and I like knowing that my stories are appreciated. ;)  
> You can find me both on Twitter and Tumblr at kayejwrotes!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! I was really nervous about posting this fic, since it's a bit different from my usual fics.  
> As always kudos and comments feed my creativity so make sure to leave them if you enjoyed this!  
> If you want to chat a bit with me you can find me @kayejwrotes both on tumblr and twitter.


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